


The Little Medal

by sk8rpssockpup (MissIzzy)



Series: Remnants of a Real-Time Series [6]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2008 World Figure Skating Championships, Little Medal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-22
Updated: 2008-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIzzy/pseuds/sk8rpssockpup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the men's short in Goteburg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Medal

"I've never had one of these," Johnny had commented quietly when almost noone could hear. But he had glanced sideways at both Jeff and Takahashi, who had. It was partly an allusion to the world medals that hadn't yet been won, but none of the three of them could be certain of getting one of those tomorrow. Even normally, noone could in theory, and this time around they certainly couldn't. All they could be certain of was this, the "little" medals, awarded for the programs and which the three of them had taken today.

He'd been thrilled. That had been understandable. It had been touching, even, the way he had gazed at the silver tiny enough to fit in the palm of his hand, tapped it with his fingers. It had taken him awhile to stop touching it.

Daisuke Takahashi wasn't half as attached to his. Jeff wasn't sure he'd touched it at all. He'd received it nodding with his eyes, mind already gone forward a day in time, when he could very easily still win gold.

Jeff hadn't dared touch his. Even now, he was afraid it might vanish. 

By the time he got back to his hotel room, he though he could collapse in the armchair and sleep right there until morning. The press, the officials, the fans had all gone crazy. He hadn't gotten a moment's peace from the time Brain Joubert had fallen and someone had realized he was probably going to be in first at the end of the day.

Somehow he made it to the bed. He shrugged off his coat, then fell over and landed on top of the blankets with a silly grin plastered all over his face like a million dollars, like Olympic gold.

The little gold medal tumbled off his shirt and pressed against his chin. He took it off and cradled it in front of his face.

He knew his chances of winning the bigger version were still pretty slim. Even if Takahashi didn't blow them all away they weren't the highest. He could face that fact and not get too down about it. A little more troubling was the possibility that he might not even medal, and he really did want to medal. Though he was doing his best not to think about that; it was obviously distracting.

But even if that happened, at least, he could still be happy once he finally brought himself to believe he was really lying here holding this little gold medal, and that's he'd really won the short program at the World Championships. He thought it might sink in in a week or so. It was going to be a fond memory, he was sure of that. When he was an old man and Megan's grandkids came to see him he'd take this medal out and show it to them. Well, actually, he'd probably show them the Olympic medal; that was obviously the big thing. But maybe when they got bored of that he'd show them this.

There was a bag by the bed. Jeff now leaned down and unzipped a small compartment out of which he pulled a small plastic sleeve. Putting the medal down on the blankets, he took the photograph out of the sleeve and placed it down next to the medal.

The picture of him and Chris had been taken at the beginning of the month. Out in public, so while they'd had their hands on each other's shoulders there was nothing to make someone who didn't know better think they were more than just best friends. Though Jeff thought once you did know, it became pretty obvious.

It had been ridiculously sentimental, taking it with him. And not very smart, thought at least he hadn't looked at it until now. He felt he'd kind of earned looking at it now.

It was good to see it, especially because less than two months ago Chris had been like that little medal; being able to keep him had been too great a joy to be immediately accepted.

That was the most amazing thing, maybe, that he could have both of these things. There was, he thought, maybe a brief time where he wouldn't have been able to chose between them, in between the change. He was willing to do so now. Though he was very, very happy that he didn't have to.

He glanced at the clock. It wasn't that late for Chris, and in fact, he should be at home. He hesitated another moment, then grabbed his phone and called.

"Jeff!" Chris' voice was warm and bright. "I'm surprised. I gave up on hearing from you until after the long, especially now, since you have to win."

"You think I have to win?" repeated Jeff, laughing.

"I think you should seriously consider it. You really did well today, didn't you?"

"Well, the big guys did makes some mistakes. And you know well, Chris, it's not something I can just decide to do."

"Not entirely, Jeff, but I think you should decide to go in with a more aggressive attitude than I think you will. But anyway, congratulations. I'm proud of you."

That seemed to Jeff a little bit of a strange thing for Chris to say, it spoke of a claim that Jeff hadn't thought Chris had been completely ready to make. Even now, perhaps he wasn't thinking through what he was saying. "What about you?" he asked. "How are you doing?"

"Pretty good," said Chris. "I fell much less in practice today."

Jeff almost didn't ask his next question, but it would bother him more if he didn't ask. "And you have decided...?"

"Not yet. You know you'll be the first person I tell when I do, Jeff." Once again, the arrival of the event delayed, the event that certainly would not end their relationship, but would make it harder. If it happened.

Jeff found himself having trouble holding back a yawn, and Chris heard. "Oh Jeff, why did you call me? You need sleep, don't you."

"Yeah," said Jeff. "But I just wanted to talk to you a little first. But now I really will go to bed."

"Goodnight, Jeff. Love you."

"Night, Chris. Love you too." 

He put the phone on the bedside table, then picked up the photograph and the medal. For a moment he held them in his hands, his two great commitments, only one of them declared anywhere but in his heart, and to the night as the object of it slept in his arms. He could not speak of the other to anyone; there were years to wait. But he was a figure skater. Waiting was something he was good at. He'd waited a long time for tonight.

He kissed the photograph, then, on impulse, kissed the medal as well. He placed them side by side on the bedside table, the photograph facedown as an automatic precaution, even thought it was pretty silly; who was going to come in the room to see it? He stripped and crawled into bed, and that night he slept very well.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after the men's short, held back because along with many other fans I was protesting then recent activities by Livejournal by not posting that day, and hastily posted a couple of hours before the long, so it would not be influenced by what happened there. Though obviously it's still not the same, after Jeff surprised and did win the big one.


End file.
